Cape Breton Highlands

Day four. The sun sets late and rises early here on Cape Breton Island. 6am and the sun thinks it’s 9:30. So does James apparently, he’s triggered to rise at the point in time when we’re the most tired, or relaxed, or...something else. But after clambering up the bed and kneeing me in the groin for good measure, he actually fell back to sleep again...well good for him, I’m up.
Pancakes and black coffee, fruit salad and really good Dutch cheese. Breakfast is on the large dining room table and the morning conversation is a mix of English and Dutch and toddler speak. Somehow we decided to drive a short way into Cape Breton National Park and take a hike, the resulting outing was awesome! The drive alone is worth doing over, maybe with a good dose of whiskey and about triple the speed. I’m just kidding of course...that would be irresponsible. But probably fun.
The hike was about 3 miles, not bad, and climaxed when we were just about blown off a cliff in 50 mph wind gusts. I’m not kidding of course. We did the Skyline trail that is very popular apparently with parents of young children. The shear cliff faces and hurricane winds must be too tempting for parents to NOT bring their offspring. Some primal survival test must awaken within us that makes us experiment on our children to see if they’re fit for this world. Most make it...
Once you are at the top, you are rewarded with amazing views of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the French Mountain...and 50 MPH gusts of freaking wind man...I mean major blowing going on. Wear a poncho at your own risk dumbass and sail away. James being 3, had morphed into a koala and found some marsupial pouch I didn’t know about on Heather and waited it out; smart kid.
The hike down was like all hikes down...boring. James fell asleep and stayed asleep if Heather carried him. He’d awaken quickly and violently each time we tried to put him in my arms, bear cub sensing that papa bear might eat him I guess. No matter, Heather likes lifting toddler kettle balls on a mountain.
Car ride to ice cream, ice cream on car seats, home... rest... relaxation for like 10 minuets until we scramble back into our respective automobiles and scurry off to a nearby restaurant by the sea...they’re all by the sea, and order us up some lobster!
Lobster is done right in this country, they’re big and juicy and it’s a meal that you get to break things to eat. They give you tools to eat this crustacean; pliers and picks and big plastic bib, because nobody can cleanly eat a lobster; we’re all reduced to toddlers with this kind of meal. This particular boiled little screamer had a nice surprise of roe hidden under its shell...a nice creamy bonus of lobster caviar!
Some homemade blueberry pie came next and I decided I’d live here quite comfortably. Drove back to our house and capped the night with some 14 year old whiskey that was distilled about 20 miles away and I decided to sell our house back home. Who knew.... Canada!Read more